


These two lanes will take us anywhere

by victoria_p (musesfool)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Apocalypse averted, Gen, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-15
Updated: 2009-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-11 10:46:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15313806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musesfool/pseuds/victoria_p
Summary: The night's busted open / these two lanes will take us anywhere





	These two lanes will take us anywhere

**Author's Note:**

> Title and summary from "Thunder Road." Happy birthday to me!

You drive, one eye on the road, spooling out mile by mile ahead and behind, one eye on Sam in the passenger seat, his head tipped back, eyes closed, dark smudges beneath them like the ash of the ruins you've left behind, smear of blood under his nose, on his cheek, dark under the intermittent strobe of yellow highway lights.

The lights flash and you think you've been doing this your whole life--driving in the darkness, watching Sam sleep.

It's over now, though. You shagged ass away from that smoking hole in the ground as soon as Sam collapsed, and you were able to half-carry, half-drag him back to the car.

"It's done," he'd muttered, eyelids fluttering, and you weren't near far enough away when there was a second, louder explosion. You put your foot on the gas hard and prayed to the only thing that's never failed you, c'mon, baby, c'mon, and felt the engine roar beneath you.

Beneath your heavy foot, the car eats up the miles. You know it's not enough if the hosts of heaven or legions of hell are still after you, but you don't care. If you're going out, you're going out on your terms: Robert Plant's ageless wail over the thundering rumble of the car, and Sam beside you, wind whipping in your hair.

But there's nothing but dust in your rearview for hours, and you greet the glare of sunrise in your eyes by shouting along to "Heartbreaker"/"Living Loving Maid.

Sam wakes with a start, flinging his arms wide, and you swing out of the way (but keep the car heading straight), used to his shenanigans. "Dean?"

"I'm right here, Sammy."

"What happened?"

"You took down Lucifer." You glance over at him and grin. "The student became the master. And kicked his fucking fallen angel ass."

Sam roots around in the accumulated detritus of the past few weeks and comes up with a bottle of water. He's already poured half of it down his throat before you can point out that it's holy water, but there's no burning or steaming, and if he's really that thirsty, you're not going to stop him.

"Thanks for drinking our last line of defense against the demons," you say, but you're still smiling.

He looks at the bottle and then looks at you, but he can't hold the frowny face for long. He starts laughing. "I can always spit at them."

You raise a skeptical eyebrow. "As a plan, it leaves a lot to be desired."

"Well, I wouldn't piss on them if they were on fire, and that's our only other option."

Now you can't hold back the laughter. You slap one hand on steering wheel, because not only is it the funniest thing you've heard in a while, it's the first joke Sam's made in what feels like forever. You've both taken this apocalypse personally--kinda hard not to, knowing you started it and you're the only ones who could end it--and Sam's taken humorless to new levels lately.

"Good thing I think it's over then," you say once you've stopped laughing. You have to wipe tears from the corners of your eyes, and you swallow hard once or twice, because the laughter is threatening to turn into huge relieved sobs, and you won't let that happen. Not while you're driving, anyway.

You reach out a hand, palm the back of Sam's neck, still sleep-warm and sweaty. He leans into it, lets you tip him close, his body warm and solid against yours, his head on your shoulder like he's a little kid again. You're both covered in ash and ectoplasm, salt and dust, and you reek of brimstone and blood and sweat, but you don't care, because you're alive, and you can always take a shower. The world didn't end; humanity should thank you for saving indoor plumbing, if nothing else.

Okay, so maybe you're a little punchy. You've just saved the world. You figure you're entitled.

"What now?" Sam asks, squirming into a more comfortable position, still pressed up against you.

"Now, we rock." You hit rewind for a few seconds, and then play, and the opening chords of "Ramble On" fill the air. "It's time we were on our way."

"Where?" Sam's voice is starting to slur into sleep again,

You shrug. You've got no place to be any time soon. "Anywhere."

Sam hums in agreement before settling down into sleep again.

You press down on the gas again, driving into the rising sun.


End file.
